They say that checkers is the poor man’s chess but whoever said that can get stuffed.
Just to prove I’m not such a lazy cat I will show my novelist research skills, sure it was via Wikipedia but it’s research all the same. And excuse me If I’m detracting from my usual beautiful prose with this somewhat formal reporting style similar to a recent PhD I completed. And hey that was not a previous life as a human when I completed my PhD it was while I was me, Will I Am the smartest cat around, huh! Took me less than 2 years too, huh!
Anyways, checkers or drafts as the poms like to call it is played on an 8×8 square board (with sixty-four total squares) with twelve pieces on each side. The pieces move and capture diagonally. They may only move forward until they reach the opposite end of the board, when they are crowned and may thereafter move and capture both backward and forward. The pieces are traditionally made of wood but these days are made of plastic. But in this second life I was the checker board so whose cares about the pieces that I hung around with but they were made of wood and they were a thick as a set of planks as well.
So anyways enough showing off let’s get back to the story…
The house I lived at was pleasant enough. Being a checker board could be quite boring. There’s was constant competition from rivals such as Snakes & Ladders, Monopoly and Operation. One of the biggest drags was the checkers pieces that I hung around with. I often got stuck inside a box with them and boy were they thick. I’m glad I’ve never been re-invented as a checker piece. I think being picked up and slammed around when jumping other pieces made their tiny brains turn to jelly. I used to crave the younger children having a hissy fit and chucking the pieces and me on the floor so I could get some distance between me and the pieces. A quite lie down in the sun…aargh.
I had some traumatic times though like when hot coffee was split over me and the adults of the house spilt wine on me one night. That was an awkward night. The children had gone to bed and late night games night went from checkers to twister in the nude to horizontal folk dancing on the couch.
I spent over 5 years in that household. Weather beaten and tanned after being left out in the sun. Freezing cold in winter when the children forgot to put me back in the box. Excited fingers pushing the pieces over me. Good plays, bad plays, cheaters, arguments, tears and laughter. But all board games have their life cycle and it was as the children got older and the parents lost their lust when I gradually began to gather dust in a cupboard.
The final straw was when the smart arse game of Trivial Pursuit turned up. A playing board who thought he knew everything. Oh my god I prayed to be thrown out in the rubbish rather than listen to that game rattle off all those bloody facts. I even preferred hanging around with the wooden checker pieces rather than the know-it-all coloured counters. And don’t get me started on the question cards – get a life, get out of the box, party a little, talk about knowledge nerds.
Anyways, as I said every life has an end and it was an argument that tore me apart. A quite day, you wouldn’t have known. Unknown visitors, they didn’t look friendly. They rummaged around the house while everyone was out. They collected things and destroyed everything else. Such pointless violence. But what would I know, I was just a simple checker board, no value to them.
The Trivial Pursuit escaped the mayhem. I could see them look on as the thieves threw the checker pieces around the room in frustration. In their fury and not finding what they were after I was ripped into pieces, my squares separated bit by bit. As I faded, I saw the faces of my wooden friends looking sadly at me, even the Trivial Pursuit board looked glum, knowing that someday they would face a similar fate. As I was scattered over the living room floor I caught a final glimpse of the sun as it cast a shadow by the tree at the front of the house where I had spent my second life, a good life when all considered.